Is it true, dear Sue?
Are there two?
I shouldn't like to come
For fear of joggling Him!
If I could shut him up
In a Coffee Cup,
Or tie him to a pin
Till I got in —
Or make him fast
To "Toby's" fist —
Hist! Whist! I'd come!
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It always felt to me — a wrong
To that Old Moses — done —
To let him see — the Canaan —
Without the entering —
And tho' in soberer moments —
No Moses there can be
I'm satisfied — the Romance
In point of injury —
Surpasses sharper stated —
Of Stephen — or of...It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon —
The Flower — distinct and Red —
I, passing, thought another Noon
Another in its stead
Will equal glow, and thought no More
But came another Day
To find the Species disappeared —
The Same Locality —
The Sun in place — no other fraud...It came at last but prompter Death
Had occupied the House —
His pallid Furniture arranged
And his metallic Peace —
Oh faithful Frost that kept the Date
Had Love as punctual been
Delight had aggrandized the Gate
And blocked the coming in.It came his turn to beg —
The begging for the life
Is different from another Alms
'Tis Penury in Chief —
I scanned his narrow realm
I gave him leave to live
Lest Gratitude revive the snake
Though smuggled his reprieveIt can't be "Summer"!
That — got through!
It's early — yet — for "Spring"!
There's that long town of White — to cross —
Before the Blackbirds sing!
It can't be "Dying"!
It's too Rouge —
The Dead shall go in White —
So Sunset shuts my question down
With Cuffs of...It ceased to hurt me, though so slow
I could not feel the Anguish go —
But only knew by looking back —
That something — had benumbed the Track —
Nor when it altered, I could say,
For I had worn it, every day,
As constant as the Childish frock —
I hung upon the Peg, at night.
...It did not surprise me —
So I said — or thought —
She will stir her pinions
And the nest forgot,
Traverse broader forests —
Build in gayer boughs,
Breathe in Ear more modern
God's old fashioned vows —
This was but a Birdling —
What and if it be
...It don't sound so terrible — quite — as it did —
I run it over — "Dead", Brain, "Dead."
Put it in Latin — left of my school —
Seems it don't shriek so — under rule.
Turn it, a little — full in the face
A Trouble looks bitterest —
Shift it — just —
Say "When Tomorrow comes this way —...It dropped so low — in my Regard —
I heard it hit the Ground —
And go to pieces on the Stones
At bottom of my Mind —
Yet blamed the Fate that flung it — less
Than I denounced Myself,
For entertaining Plated Wares
Upon my Silver Shelf —